


No Place Like Home

by AmyPond45



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPond45/pseuds/AmyPond45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place right after 9.04 Slumber Party. Sam is weak and Dean feeds him and -- other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Place Like Home

"So what now?"

Sam was asking the question Dean had been meaning to answer since just before Charlie arrived, before the thing with the Wicked Witch and Dorothy and -- was this just the weirdest damn case they ever faced?

And in their own home? This wonderful place where Dean finally had his own room and a warm, comfortable place for Baby to park her beautiful black ass --

Probably. Yeah, definitely -- this one was weird. No, there had been weirder, but Dean wasn't thinking about that right now.

Right now he was looking at Sam, and Sam was looking back, expectant and sweet, and Sam had been injured -- again -- and was hurting and not admitting it, as usual.

And was possessed by an angel. Not usual.

"How 'bout some chow?" Dean offered.

"You cookin'?" Sam answered. lifting an eyebrow.

Dean nodded with a smirk, and Sam huffed out a breath, squared his shoulders. Dean's cooking was getting better. In fact, it was getting fuckin' awesome, and Sam was definitely enjoying the results of all this "nesting" business, even if he didn't want to admit it.

And face it, after all that zapping and chasing and being controlled by a Wicked Witch business, Sam was hungry.

"OK, then," Sam agreed. "Gonna take a shower while you -- cook."

* *

And this had been the plan from the first. Feed Sam, take care of Sam, maybe have sex with Sam...

Anyway.

Dean really did enjoy cooking, and by the time he had whipped up the salad, broiled the steaks, stir-fried some broccoli and onions and baked a potato or two, Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with his hair all damp and slicked back and a fresh flannel shirt barely covering his massive, muscled frame, and Dean was humming to himself -- fuckin' humming!

Because he was going to make sure Sam learned to love this whole domestic thing. He -- Dean Winchester -- was making a home for the first time in thirty years, and he was giving it to his brother, who never had one.

And that was just -- awesome.

They ate in companionable silence, Sam making appreciative noises each time he tasted something new, Dean hiding his satisfied grins behind another swig of his beer.

"Dessert?" Sam asked as he cleaned his plate, having wolfed down two helpings of everything and a massive side salad.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Dude, seriously? You know how hard it is to make a good pie?"

Sam shrugged. "I know you've been practicing," he noted. "Show me what you've got."

Dean lowered his eyes to his plate, picked around the bone of his steak, looking for a last bite. "Really, man, I'm not quite ready for prime time on that one."

"Oh, come on, Dean," Sam teased. "I saw it in the fridge. You made a berry pie. I saw it! Didn't look half bad, either -- "

"I figured Kevin could eat it when he got back," Dean shrugged. "Not sure it's any good, but the kid'll eat anything, so -- "

"Well, if it's good enough for Kevin -- " Sam pushed his chair back, started to get up.

Then he stumbled, one of his legs giving out under him, and Dean was on his feet instantly, right there to catch his brother before he fell heavily into the table.

"Whoa there, tiger." Dean's face was a mask of concern as he supported Sam's weight. And instead of yanking himself upright as he usually did, Sam leaned in, swiping his hand across his face and blinking rapidly, his body turning toward his brother instinctively.

"Okay there, Sam, I've got you," Dean murmured, noting the dizziness, the sudden pale clamminess of Sam's skin, the sweat breaking out across his brow.

Sam was sick, still not at all well after the trials, and he had recently been injured again and now --

Dean put his hand up to Sam's forehead and Sam batted him away.

"No, Dean, I'm fine," he slurred, but Dean knew it was more than the beer. Sam's temperature was up.

Again.

"Yeah, like hell you are," Dean growled, fitting himself squarely under Sam's shoulder and slipping his arm securely around Sam's waist, turning them, hip to hip, toward the door. "Let's get you to bed, man."

By the time they got to Sam's room -- Dean's was a wreck so even though it was closer and usually more comfortable Dean decided to take Sam to his own room this time -- Sam was almost passed out, barely keeping his head up.

Dean lowered him gently onto his back on the bed, then started removing his clothing, and the fact that Sam let him proved just how out of it he was, but at least Dean had a chance to check out his bruises, feel for serious injuries, satisfy himself that there wasn't any permanent damage.

On the surface, at least. Dean knew his brother was a wreck on the inside because Cas had said so. And Ezekiel was healing him -- hell, Zeke was keeping him alive, let's face it -- because Sam couldn't survive without the angel inside him.

But Dean really did not want to think about that right now. Just wanted Sam to sleep, to get better.

Sam had his eyes closed, and Dean assumed he was already lost in a feverish doze until he started to leave the room and Sam opened his eyes, turned toward him.

"Stay," Sam's voice was hoarse, but there was no mistaking the plea, the tone of neediness that Dean could never resist.

So Dean turned the light out and removed his clothes, stretched out on the bed next to Sam's overheated body wearing only his shorts and a tee-shirt. Sam's long arm scooped Dean up against him, and Dean let himself snuggle into Sam, slipping his arm across his chest, laying his head on Sam's shoulder, breathing in the familiar smell of his brother's body.

Sam took a deep, shaky breath, then let it out against Dean's hair. Dean lay still as Sam's thumb rubbed back and forth over his shoulder, then he sucked in his own breath as Sam's other hand traveled gently across his face, down his neck, pulling him in even closer.

"Love you, Dean," Sam's voice was shaking along with his body, and Dean realized he was crying.

Fuck. Kid was delirious.

"Fuckin' love you so much, man." Sam was sobbing now.

Ah, Jesus.

"Shhh, it's okay, Sam," Dean murmured, reaching up to pat his face reassuringly. His hand came away soaked in Sam's tears. "Just try to get some sleep, okay?"

Sam grabbed Dean's hand and kissed it, then pulled it against his cheek again, nuzzling it with his damp cheek and lips. He moved restlessly, pressing into Dean with small, squirming thrusts, and Dean realized his comforting presence was not having a calming effect on his brother. Rather the opposite, in fact.

"Sam -- " Dean raised his head to look up and found his jaw captured by his brother's large hand, his lips captured by Sam's. Sam's kiss was bruising, hungry, accentuated by rolling thrusts of his hips. Dean parted his lips to allow his brother's tongue to push inside, tasting beer and steak and Sam. Sam grabbed Dean's hand and pulled it down between their bodies, pushing it against his erection and holding it there while he thrust, moaning at the friction through his shorts. Dean felt his own dick filling in response, knew just where this was headed, pulled his head back to break the kiss.

"Sam," he protested, his voice shaking with his own need. "You're sick. It's not a good time -- "

"Yeah, it is," Sam argued, leaning in to nip at Dean's mouth, thrusting harder into his hand. "Need this. Need this now, Dean."

But Dean still held back, pulling his hand away to push against Sam's chest.

"Wait," he tried again, breath coming out in short pants as Sam turned into him, sliding his large hand across Dean's hip to clutch his ass and grinding his lower body against Dean's.

But something nagged at the back of Dean's mind, filling him with a sharp pang of panic.

Because they weren't alone.

"I need to talk to you," Dean tried to make his voice commanding, but Sam's thrusts were becoming more urgent.

Dean pushed his hand into Sam's soft hair, grabbed a handful, pulled.

"I need to talk to you!" he ground out, more forcefully this time.

For a moment Sam stared at him, confusion tightening his features. Then Dean caught the flash of blue in his eyes, felt Sam's body go still, and knew the angel had come to consciousness.

Zeke seemed momentarily confused, startled to find Dean's face inches from his own, awareness of his body -- Sam's body -- pressed so tightly against Dean's.

He stared into Dean's eyes for a moment, then looked down at Dean's mouth, letting his tongue slide along his lower lip, tasting Dean there.

"Zeke, get your hand off my ass," Dean growled, and Zeke's eyes widened.

"I need to talk to you. Now." Dean gritted his teeth and pushed against Sam's chest, trying to put some distance between them.

Zeke pulled away and sat up, eyes lowered as he considered the condition of Sam's body, taking a moment to process the sensations, then turning his eyes up to Dean again.

"You wish for privacy," Zeke stated flatly, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

It was Dean's turn to look away, unable to return that burning gaze. What was it with angels and their intense looks?

"Yeah, if you don't mind," Dean muttered. "Sam needs -- "

"I know what he needs, Dean," Zeke's low rumble sent shivers up and down Dean's spine. "I will not interfere."

"Right." Dean nodded, cleared his throat. "So -- how do I -- how do I know you're not -- not listening in?"

Zeke frowned. 

"I have more important things to do than eavesdrop on you and Sam, Dean," he admonished. "Sam's body has been damaged again, and I have been weakened by your recent demands on my power. I cannot keep healing your friends, Dean. It will only delay my ability to heal myself."

Dean nodded again.

"Yeah, I get that," he acknowledged. He gazed at Ezekiel, considering, then breathed out, "Thank you. For Charlie. For Castiel." For Sam, he thought, but didn't say aloud.

For a moment the angel's expression seemed to soften. Dean became uncomfortably aware of how close and nearly naked they were, on Sam's bed, and it was a little weird because -- yeah, it was a little weird. Especially with the angel wearing the person he loved most in the world.

Weird, weird, weird.

Then Ezekiel gave a little nod, acknowledging Dean's gratitude, and he was gone.

Sam's hazel gaze, confused and startled, stared back instead.

"What just happened?" Sam demanded, eyes scanning the room, the bed, Dean's face.

Dean shrugged. "You sorta blacked out there for a minute," he said as casually as possible. "Told you you needed to sleep."

Sam blinked, frowning as he recalled the moments before his "black-out."

"So I blacked out and sat up?" he asked. "Like sleepwalking? What the hell?"

Dean shrugged again. "You went all Rain-man on me, man. One minute we were making out, and the next you -- you were muttering something about Tuesdays and rattling off a bunch of numbers."

Sam stared. "Seriously? My brain must be more fried than I thought." He considered for a moment, then looked up at Dean again. "I must be having little strokes or something."

Dean couldn't hide the guilt that flooded him at the thought that Sam would believe he was brain-damaged, and he scrambled for an explanation, anything that would take Sam's mind off his own obvious ill-health.

"Well, maybe," he cleared his throat nervously, unable to meet Sam's steady gaze. "But look on the bright side. Your fever's gone."

Sam looked dubious for another moment, then lay down on his back, huge yawn cracking his face, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I think I need to get some sleep," he muttered, and Dean nodded, started to get up to leave the room.

"Dean," Sam called after him. "Where are you going?"

Dean turned back, saw the invitation in his brother's eyes, didn't need to be asked twice.

As he lay down, Sam turned onto his side away from him, pulling Dean's arm across his chest. Spooning his baby brother wasn't as easy as it had once been. Sam's massive frame was too big for a comfortable fit, but Dean could sense Sam's need to feel cared for, and he was damned sure gonna do what he could to give him that. Taking care of Sam was what he did. It was who he was.

So Dean settled snugly against Sam's back, nuzzling his nose into Sam's soft hair, pressing his lips against the warm skin, letting his body relax into Sam's as Sam fell asleep hugging Dean's arm against his chest like a goddamn teddy bear.

* * *

He woke late in the night on his back, naked from the waist down, with Sam between his legs, rubbing his dick against Dean's thigh. Sam was completely naked, and his chest gleamed with a fine layer of sweat, his hair hanging down around his face so that there was nothing but shadow there and the occasional glint of his eyes in the dark room. Sam's long, muscled arms supported himself on either side of Dean's body, and when Dean reached up to tuck Sam's hair behind his ear Sam lowered his chest to Dean's so he could increase the friction, burying his face in Dean's neck with a moan of pure pleasure. Dean shifted and pulled one knee up, opening wider to accommodate Sam's huge frame, sliding his hands down Sam's sweat-slicked back to his ass. Sam's lips and tongue worked Dean's throat, his jaw, across his cheek to capture his mouth, moaning as he thrust his tongue between Dean's parted lips, increasing the rhythm to match the thrusting of his hips.

"Off," Sam demanded against his lips, clenching a handful of Dean's tee-shirt between them and pushing it up his chest.

Sam pulled back for a minute and watched as Dean complied, tossing the tee-shirt on the floor, then dragged the palm of one hand down over the exposed skin, teasing a nipple with his long thumb.

Dean drew a shaky breath, feeling Sam's heated gaze follow his hand down his chest to his stomach.

"So beautiful," Sam whispered, and Dean felt himself flush, squirming as Sam's mouth followed his hand.

"Sam," he admonished softly, but the word ended in a gasp as Sam's warm mouth closed over the head of his dick and his long fingers grasped the base. Dean's body knew what it wanted, and fucking Sam's hot wet mouth was definitely up there on the list. He slid his hand into Sam's soft hair, encouraging and holding him as he thrust between Sam's lips, hearing his own breathy gasps as Sam got the rhythm going just right and his dick hit the back of Sam's throat.

And yeah, it would be just fine if Sam wanted to suck him off tonight, but apparently Sam had other ideas. Dean gasped again as Sam pulled off, laving his dick with long, wet strokes before climbing purposefully on top of Dean, kneeling over him and positioning his entrance over Dean's dick, then -- oh god yeah -- sliding right down onto Dean, so wet and ready and open Dean knew he must've been working himself open while Dean slept and -- oh god that was just too good -- and watching Sam's blissed out face in the dim light and feeling himself fucking up into his brother and hearing Sam's moans as he sank down and took Dean's dick all the way and then started moving, and Dean thrust up and Sam cried out and threw his head back and all that tan, muscled skin just gleaming and needing to be touched and Dean's hands splayed over it, teasing Sam's nipples and pulling at his broad shoulders and clutching his biceps and Sam just goddamn riding him and making those choked, guttural sounds that Dean loved so much that he had to yank him down to kiss him.

'Cause kissing Sam's recently fucked mouth while fucking his body was just un-fuckin-believable -- and Sam moaning into Dean's mouth and grabbing his dick and thinking about Sam lying next to him while he slept just fucking himself with his long fingers and opening himself up with lube and -- oh god yeah, that -- 

Dean tore his mouth away to stifle his own cry and Sam sank his teeth into the fleshy crook of his neck as he came, long and hard and almost blacking out, deep inside the tight heat of Sam's body, only fading back into consciousness long enough to feel Sam jerking out his own orgasm on his chest, then reaching down with one long arm to retrieve his tee-shirt and wipe him off, causing his dick to slip out of its warm sheath in the process.

Dean sucked in a long breath as the cool air of the room hit his sensitive skin, then he lay contentedly as Sam wiped him off, pulled the covers up over them both, then scooted him back against Sam's chest with one long arm so that Sam could spoon him. The last thing he knew before drifting back to sleep was Sam's lips on his ear, murmuring something that could have been his name spoken with that deep, possessive love of Sam's that always sent a shiver right to the roots of his being.

Right to his soul.

In the still darkness of the room, his breathing already deep and steady in sleep, Dean didn't notice the tiny flash of blue light as soft lips pressed against the back of his neck and strong arms hugged him even tighter against the warm expanse of skin over his brother's heart.


End file.
